


Broadcasting On All Frequencies

by MixerMonochrome



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, F/F, Post-Apocalypse, Trolls on Earth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 14:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19855318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MixerMonochrome/pseuds/MixerMonochrome
Summary: Society collapsed after a mysterious virus ravaged Earth's sentient population, killing most, mutating some, and leaving a rare few unscathed.Kanaya Maryam has been travelling alone for the two years since her own experience with the plague.  But for the past half-a-year she's been chasing down the source of a broadcast, not to mention the somewhat charming personality behind it, in the hopes of changing that state of affairs.  Now, at last, she's nearly found it.She just has to figure out where in this confounding city it's coming from.  But it's hard when she keeps getting distracted by far too friendly wildlife, an assortment of bizzare but non-lethal traps (pranks? defenses?), and the disconcerting stares of a puppet audience that seems to only grow bigger every time she looks away.What, exactly, has she gotten herself into?





	Broadcasting On All Frequencies

_ "The sun is rising on the seven-hundred seventy seventh day, Post-Pestilence. A nice, repeating number if I do say so myself, and an auspicious one in many religions, if I’m not mistaken. _

_ It’s  _ almost  _ enough to make one forget the desolation at our doorstep, but the apocalypse waits for no one to acknowledge it. It is simply here. In the taste of decay on the air and the sound of empty, hollow streets, the silence broken only by the occasional animal or - rarely - the distortion that follows the Grieved. It is here in the sky devoid of planes and the telephone lines sagging like the threads of severed cobwebs. In the shapes of the same rusted cars sitting sentinel on the same dusty roads, awaiting people whom The Plague has long since consumed. _

_ We live in the haunting echoes of a symphony abruptly silenced, dear listeners. Or, perhaps, we ARE the echoes: clinging to this mortal coil when the rest of the masses have left it, in one way or another. Doomed to fade out in time, expanding and diminishing into nothingness until not even the memory of us will remain. _

_ Ah, but that is something to ponder on later. For now, the reason we’re all here: _

_ This is Rose Lalonde, broadcasting on all AM frequencies. If you can hear this, then that means you’re within about a 100 mile radius of my position at "La Chateau De Minou" radio station in the city of Lariat, and, if nothing else has clued you in yet - you’re not alone out here. I and a few others in nearby towns survived our run-ins with The Plague, as well as the societal collapse and ecological shifts that followed, and we’ve since found each other and settled here. We have defenses against the few Grieved who still remain in this area, as well as ample experience in their myriad variations and the ways to banish or kill them as the case may be. We have fresh food; clean, running water; a rudimentary electrical grid set-up; and multitudes of empty rooms to fill. We’d be more than happy to have you join our ranks, even temporarily. Good company can be so hard to find after all, these days more than most. _

_ If you find yourself amenable to a meeting with us, or at the very least curious… _

_ Then please, respond. _

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**Author's Note:**

> Idk I had a minor Soft-Apocalypse Rosemary AU pop into my head and now i gotta write it. This one shouldn't be too long tho, 2 maybe 3 chapters at most. Here's the little intro chapter!
> 
> Edit: Hah!! Formatting done :D


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